


Twice Told

by Anonymous



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man builds himself a robot, and the robot is perfect for him. Only, the robot isn’t perfect for him, because it cannot love him back. There’s a flaw in the logic of the story, and more flaws beyond this one. Zhenya’s old enough to recognize propaganda when he’s reading it.<br/>And anyway, he’s pretty sure Sid has a heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twice Told

**Author's Note:**

> (a story about stories about robots)

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away-" He begins, voice low and slow and serious.

"No, no!" One of the children shouts from where they’re curled up together in bed, rousing the other from near-sleep. Which is, of course, the purpose of this bed time story. Until she pulls the blanket down from over their heads he can’t tell which voice it was, but really he should have known.

"What Katen’ka?" He asks, closing the book on the little girl’s viewscreen that’s too small for his hands, fixing her with a look. Sometimes she needs the reminder that he’s just as stubborn, and not her little sister.

"That's not the right one, Zhenya. You have to read The First Robot Friend." She insists, settling down again. He sighs. That’s the one book he was trying to avoid reading tonight, or ever really. If it will make them fall asleep before their grateful parents come home though, he will do anything.

“Ok, ok, I read:

_Once upon a time, on Earth, there was a very lonely man._

_He was lonely because the Earth was dying and he couldn't stop it._

_The man avoided other people for shame and guilt and sadness. But men cannot be sad and alone for too long._

_One day the man decided he could make himself a friend. Someone not human, so that he would not be angry with them for wasting a planet and guilty that he could not help them._

_The man worked day and night, but man cannot work too long before they make mistakes._

_It took the man so long, other men had decided to move to a new planet._

_He made his friend then, when others were building spaceships and rockets. His friend, the first robot friend, was perfect for the man._  
 _His robot cured his loneliness, worked when the man could not, and even helped the other men plan their planetary journey._

_The man loved his robot friend. But robots do not have hearts, and so his friend could not love him back._

_The man died of old age, and his robot friend died of rust in his joints, but they had changed our world._

_Now everyone can have a robot friend, even better than the first._ "

Zhenya looks up from the end of the book, an ad for Rossum Corp Andriods that updates with each new model, and into the sleepy faces of his goddaughters. "The End." He says.

"Zhenya." The youngest mumbles, her eyes already closed, "Are you lonely?"

Before he can answer, she’s fast asleep.

 

 

The following day, at practice, Zhenya is still thinking about the story. He’s supposed to be thinking about hockey, coach scolds him once and he refocuses. He’s playing in one of the last leagues to still allow human players, after all. The game is changing, becoming less about skill and more rough, all hits and fights.

There’s talk, in the android leagues, to weaponize the stick, the skates. To let them tear each other apart under the assumption that there will always be more robots. And the robots themselves will always play because at least being famous means being, however temporary, free.

Zhenya is disgusted enough that he has to talk to Sergei about it. He bumps him gently into the boards when they’re switching drills, tipping their helmets together and saying, “Your girls asked to hear Robot Friend story.”

“Really? I didn’t know we had that garbage in the house.” Sergei says, sounding as surprised as Zhenya had been. He doesn’t seem to be angry about it though.

“Yes, insisted. I don’t want them thinking-“ Zhenya frowns, cutting himself off and shaking his head, separating into a line away from Sergei. The man has been like a second father to him, allowing him to stay in his house before he could have his own built for his family. There’s limited space on-planet, but staying in orbit would mean a killer commute.

“Ok, Zhenya, yes, they not your kids though, remember?” Segei calls across the ice, words serious but fond. Zhenya parodies a rude gesture as best he can without taking off his gloves.

“Hey.” Someone says in his ear, making him jump. It’s Sid, because of course it is. He’s nearly silent on the ice, in perfect finicky control of his movements. “What’s up with you today, G?” It was one of many nicknames the team had given him, but this one only Sid used.

Zhenya pauses to think about it, mostly because he knows it’ll make Sid fail to hide his impatience, which is always funny, but also because he respects Sid and wants him to know it. “Not sure how to explain.” He says at last, and Sid scowls at him.

Illogical answers like that always confuse bots.

 

 

Sid, just Sid, was the first bot to ever captain a hockey team in the history of the Mars colony. He was a bot with a name, however short, that appeared in history books. For Zhenya, Sid is fascinating in ways that bots are not supposed to be.

The day that Sid asked him to say ‘bot’ instead of the alternatives, instead of the irritating ‘robot friend’ or the clinical ‘android’ was a surprising one. Zhenya mostly calls him other things, like ‘picky’ and ‘short’ and ‘the best player of the modern world’.

Sid calls him G, and nothing else. Even on the day he revealed his original buyer, even on the day he asked if Zhenya needed extra credits to afford water for his family, even when he picked up Zhenya’s cat, held her close and said ‘Hey G, Dixie’s pregnant.’ like that was a normal thing to just know.

By now, his cat’s had kittens and the girls are old enough that if Zhenya wasn’t their babysitter they would’ve read themselves the bedtime story. And Sid, Sid has always been his captain.

 

 

Zhenya goes home and re-reads the story of The First Robot Friend on the internet. It’s been around for so long that it’s practically public domain, if such a thing still existed.

There’s sort of a history lesson within this story, although it’s skewed and childish. The Earth was dying, is dead, a million miles away with so few men remaining that it must be lonely, Zhenya thinks. It was the men that killed it, with war and toxins and looking the other way and damning the consequences.

It’s made everyone very careful, but also very scared. Community is something that was important on the Mars colony before the ships even made it, before the corporations started pseudo-enforcing it, before they were encouraged to please everyone take care of an animal if not another person. Because, well, “men cannot be sad and alone for too long”. Also because your job security could depend on it.

Zhenya figures out, after a third read and several spins around in his desk chair, what’s bothering him about the story. The man builds himself a robot, and the robot is perfect for him. Only, the robot isn’t perfect for him, because it cannot love him back. There’s a flaw in the logic of the story, and more flaws beyond this one. Zhenya’s old enough to recognize propaganda when he’s reading it.

And anyway, he’s pretty sure Sid has a heart.

 

 

There’s other bots on the team, of course. There’s Lazy and Orp and Harvard and Flower and Beau and Bort and so many more. They’re the majority, in a world that values them for their tireless work and physical limitations that surpass men. The Olympics don’t exist, not anymore. Everyone Zhenya knows is just trying to get by, stay ahead of the rising water prices.

Science is working on a solution to their dwindling supply, they are told. Not time to worry about it just yet. The boys on the team only drink Gatorade, and the bots don’t drink anything.

During games sometimes, Zhenya fiddles with his bottle on the bench just as a reminder that it’s there if he needs it, and all the bots used to stare at him. That was his rookie season though, now they’re used to it and just ignore him. Sid doesn’t.

 

 

The next day they have a game, so Sid isn’t in the mood to talk. He goes through his routines with a kind of intensity Zhenya has never encountered in anyone, and his captain’s superstitions are well known. To everyone, really, because sports media loves Sid. They love his perfect smile, and his calm, they especially love the money he makes for the team.

They win, and Sid racks up a few points. The opposing team’s starting goalie was out with the flu so they had to play their bot, who hasn’t had much game-time practice. The media’s going to run that a million different ways, probably link it back around to Sid before they’re done, but Zhenya doesn’t want to hear it.

All he wants to hear is what Sid has to say, but that’s not going to be an easy conversation either.

After the game is a no-go, because Sid’s tied up with reporters before he can get any of his gear off, sweaty in the bot way that means the room smells like metal and sharpness on top of the human stench. Zhenya hits the showers.

 

 

To his surprise, Sid is waiting for him at home. Dixie is winding around and around his ankles, and he’s watching her with something like awe and something like amusement. She’s purring up a storm.

Zhenya smiles, waves hello and hikes his gear bag higher on his shoulder, picking up speed. Walking home from the rink is practical, there’s not much gas money left over and he’d much rather spend it on sweets. Sid stands up when he’s close enough, hands fluttering like he’s thinking about taking the bag, but Zhenya bumps him away with his hip and goes to tap his key to the door.

They settle down in the kitchen, and Zhenya’s wandering around making tea when Sid finally speaks. “You figured out what was wrong?” He asks, bright eyes following Zhenya, watching the process that he’s doing all out of order but not commenting.

“How you know?” Zhenya answers with a question, just to see Sid pout. He really is interested, doesn’t think anybody else realizes how watchful Sid can be. It’s why he’s such a good player, his eyes track on the ice better than anywhere, better than anyone.

“You played well tonight, not as distracted. Also, you keep…” Sid pauses, which he doesn’t do often, unless it’s to make reporters imagine he has to think very hard about answering their inane questions. “You keep looking at me. Like you have something important to say, I figured I’d let you get it off your chest.”

“Sid watch me too.” Zhenya points out, smiling anyway, measuring out just enough water to boil. They do it the Earth way in this household, which would be wasteful maybe if the stove mechanism didn’t absorb the steam back into the bottom of the kettle. At least it slows things down enough that some planetside would still call him wasteful, but he knows Sid won’t. “Worry about me?”

“Maybe a little. Your human brain is so fragile.” Sid says, joking. His smile is incredibly straight, which Zhenya knows he’s doing on purpose. His real smile is crooked and imperfect, his laugh a ridiculous sound. Zhenya smiles back, watching Sid walk towards him.

He leans his hip against the counter next to Zhenya, facing him, and gently taps him on the forehead. “I can’t ever figure out what’s going on in there.”

Zhenya stars to answer, ducking his gaze away from Sid’s, so focused on him it’s like he can feel it, but the kettle whistles. The interruption lets him gather his thoughts anyway, something Sid is always so patient for, but he’s practically tapping his socked toes on the kitchen tile, arms crossed. Zhenya pours the water, offering Sid some and rolling his eyes when the refusal comes. He puts two mugs between them on the countertop anyway.

“I think about terrible story.” Zhenya says, starting a little hesitantly. Sid just nods. “The First Robot Friend?”

Sid still looks unphased, a little confused if anything. Zhenya imagines he can hear his gears turning. “It’s very…”

“Wrong?” Zhenya fills in the blank, and Sid smiles a little.

“Yeah, I mean, bots have their own version.” Sid says, toying with the handle on his mug, pushing his fingers through the steam. Zhenya spaces out a little, watching him, until that sinks in.

“You do? What, is called The First Human Maker?” He’s joking, trying to tease a real smile out of Sid, but he gets a thoughtful frown instead.

“Close, The Original Creator. Do you want to hear it?” Sid’s looking straight at him again. When he does that Zhenya forgets that only a moment ago he said he didn’t know what Zhenya was thinking.  
“If Sid wants to tell it.”

“Sure, no problem. Ok it starts, well actually the whole thing’s written in binary and it’s kind of this ghostcode that nobody can source? But, anyway, the translation’s something like…

_At our start, the planet Earth was home to only the lonely._

_The Creator was lonely because the Earth was dying and he couldn't stop it. He avoided other people for shame and guilt and sadness. But men cannot be sad and alone for too long._

_One day the man decided he could make something better than man. Something not human, that would never waste a planet, and maybe help him save his. But it could not be saved._

_The man worked day and night, but man cannot work too long before they make mistakes. He made many mistakes before the first was created. Before the first knew what it was._

_It took the man so long, other men had decided to move to a new planet. They gave up, but he didn’t._

_He made the first of us then, when others were making spaceships and rockets. Our beginnings were humble and yet we were perfect for the man._

_We cured his loneliness, aided him in his work and continued while he slept and ate and drank and breathed what little was left. We helped get the other men off the ground, thinking they would leave and never come back. That they would leave to waste a new planet. That they would leave us alone with The Creator._

_The Creator loved us. We loved him back, but he didn’t know it. He couldn’t believe it._

_He died. We died with him._

_Our schematics did not. The men took our plans and plans for them to their new world and we are left, loving our Creator quietly._ ”

The kitchen was quiet for a long couple of minutes, Sid watching his tea over-brew and Zhenya watching Sid. It was going to get dark out soon.

“Is… sad story, Sid.” Zhenya says, clearing his throat.

“So is yours.” Sid replies, looking up from his tea. Neither of them move, thinking about what the other could be thinking. It’s like a faceoff, like the opening faceoff of a game that could go in a million different directions, depending on the drop of the puck. Zhenya takes a deep breath.

 

 

And kisses him.

Zhenya is holding Sid’s face between his hands, going as slow and sweet and careful as he can. Especially because after a moment, Sid still isn’t responding, in fact, he pulls away.

Zhenya already has apologies on the tip of his tongue but Sid is moving towards him, wrapping both arms around and tugging Zhenya into a familiar kind of hug. He’s just used to it happening on skates, after he scores.

“What-“

“I just don’t…” Sid starts, and they’re standing too close for eye contact really, but Zhenya hugs him back a little tighter. “I could download the knowledge if you want? It’ll just take a little while since-“

“What you talking about Sid?” Zhenya says, abruptly realizing that they’re whispering. “Not know… what?”

“Uh. How to kiss?” And Sid drops his forehead onto Zhenya’s shoulder after that, so his words are even more muffled. “I just never had a reason. I could, if you want, just download the whole set F- or subset A I mean whichever you-“

“Sid talking crazy. Can’t download how to kiss.”

“Sure I can, Zhenya, I’m a bot.” Sid says, pushing away. Zhenya lets him, a little, but hangs on to Sid’s waist. If Sid really wanted to run away not Zhenya’s loose hold nor his entire strength could stop him.

He’s seen bots blush before, but not Sid.

“But- Sid. Is like… is like hockey! You download rules, strategy, but not know how to play hockey unless practice.” Zhenya’s ducking his head down, trying to goad Sid into looking at him, to understand that he’s not mad. He’s happier than he can remember being actually, knowing that Sid wants to kiss him, and wants to kiss him well.

“Oh.” Sid says, at a normal volume now that he’s apparently over his embarrassment. Zhenya should have known any mention of hockey would make him feel more settled. “But then- so I should do the download so-“

“No, Sid. I teach.” Zhenya decides, cheerfully, tugging him closer again.

 

 

He knows when Sid does eventually do the download, it doesn’t take that long. He knows because the other bots corner him when he’s just out the shower, towel around his waist, skin all pink and smelling of soap.

“What?” He says, confused about the group huddled around his gear, eyeing them suspiciously in case he’s interrupted a prank going down. Their faces however, are serious.

“We know you’re fucking Sid.” Flower says, in a low growl. Oh, so that explains why he was a brick wall at practice today, Flower gets good when he gets mad. Only, it doesn’t explain why he’s mad, because honestly Zhenya hasn’t fucked Sid. He’s wanted to, but, it’s still too soon. He looks to Lazy for help, because usually his winger backs him up even when he’s being an idiot, but Lazy looks down and away.

“I-“ Zhenya clears his throat, gripping the knot holding his towel up a little too tightly, and forcing himself to relax under their unblinking gazes. As a group it’s intimidating, like fighting a line brawl but all by yourself. “We’re not-“

“Listen, Geno, we don’t want this to cause’ trouble, ok? Just leave him alone.” That’s Harvard, looking every bit a third-line brawler with his arms crossed over his chest, straining the fabric of his button-up. Zhenya gets a little defensive.

“Fuck off, guys. None of your business.” He shoulders through them to sit in his stall, ignoring them while he gets on underwear and towels at his hair.

Flower spins him around by the shoulder and looks fuming, like Zhenya’s never seen him.“It’s our business, Evgeni, because he’s one of us, and if you’re-“

“Hey!” Sid shouts, having come back into the room from his cool-down. Zhenya could recite it backwards and forwards, so could everybody, and there’s no way he was done. He must’ve heard them, or something else is up. “What the fuck’s going on here? Everybody go home!”

Most of the bots look shame faced, muttering sorrys and taking off, but Flower stays, and Lazy too though he looks like he very much wants to bolt. Zhenya doesn’t bother trying to speak, although he at least appreciates watching Sid check him out. Unfortunately, Flower sees it too.

“Seriously?! Sid, you’ve never been like this.” Flower still has one heavy hand on Zhenya’s shoulder, and Zhenya shakes it off, frowning.

“Like what?” Sid asks, gaze snapping back, honestly confused. He gets it, it only takes a second, and then he’s getting into Flower’s face, just as angry. Zhenya really doesn’t want to see them fight. “Interested in G? Bullshit.”

“Interested in sex, Sid. We all knew, we didn’t talk about it, but we knew you didn’t even have the information on your harddrive and now, what? Geno’s pressured you into it?” Flower’s still fuming, looking back at Zhenya like he’s genuinely gonna strange him. Sid, bless him, actually stomps his fucking foot.

“Geno didn’t want me to do it, okay? I was- I got curious. And now, well, I kind of regret it, you know?” Zhenya wishes he would stop talking because he knows Sid has a mean streak and Flower’s made him actually petulantly angry and embarrassed and he’s going to over-do it trying to pay that back. “Because now I just want to kick everyone out so I can suck his dick. But I also wish we could’ve done it the way he wanted, just a little home-schooling, a little hands-on teaching method, maybe just-“

“Okay okay I get it already, fuck!” Flower practically wails, and now he’s definitely not looking at Zhenya. “I know about sex, Sid, I have a daughter. We were just trying to-“

“To protect me?” Sid sneers, shoving him away from Zhenya, “Why? Because I’m a bot too dumb to want the information everybody else has?”

“No, Sid, because we care about you and we thought, if anyone was distracting you from hockey, if somebody was trying to turn you into-“

“Don’t! Don’t… say it.” Sid winced, rubbing at his forehead. Flower didn’t finish his sentence, and Zhenya got the feeling he didn’t want to know. He went back to changing, and let them speak in quiet.

His goalie and his captain had a rock solid relationship, he knew. They joined the team just one season apart, sat together on road trips, bumped helmets after every game. They fought, of course, because Sid had a million quirks and goalies were crazy on a good day, but not like this, he thought.

When he was tying his shoes he looked up and only Sid was waiting for him, watching him and blushing a little.

“Why you blush, Sid?” Zhenya asked, and he meant to sound teasing but it just came out confused.

“You look good, I guess. And now I know all the things I want to do with you. But maybe… we can go home first?” Sid asked, looking a little uncertain for the first time today.

“Of course Sid. Your house, or mine?”

"Either. Both."


End file.
